Perspectives on Resistance
by LisaT
Summary: The senior staff reflect on the events of Unimatrix Zero after Tuvok, B'Elanna, and Janeway return to Voyager. PT and implied JC. Please R&R, if only to prod me into finishing this! :
1. Chapter 1

**_Perspectives on Resistance_**

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_**_Despite reading many fanfics on the topic, the repercussions of Unimatrix Zero continue to fascinate me. Please review this story. It is still in progress and has currently stalled (still need to do POVs for Seven, Tuvok and Harry, and perhaps another Janeway or Chakotay one, but I need some advice and feedback to give me the incentive to finish it, so... please? Pretty pretty please?_

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_**1: Captain Kathryn Janeway**

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Kathryn Janeway sagged with internal relief as she materialised in Voyager's transporter room. Under normal circumstances, the relief would be manifested physically, but fortified with Borg technology as she was, that was presently impossible. Or so she thought.

She watched through a haze as crewmen on medical standby ran towards Tuvok, collapsed on the floor, and saw them offer help to B'Elanna. The half-Klingon, however, responded with characteristic defiance by shrugging off the proffered assistance. Only then did Kathryn realise that someone was speaking to her, trying to attract her attention… She noted with a distant horror that she had not even felt the touch on her arm.

"Captain?"

Kathryn forced herself to think clearly, to respond. It was becoming increasingly difficult. For a moment she could not even remember the name to go with the anxious face and blonde hair. Finally, it came to her, and she spoke with a voice that hardly seemed to be her own.

"Sam?"

Samantha Wildman's smile was like a beam of sunlight, and Kathryn felt tears come to her eyes. Normally she would shrug them away as inappropriate and uncaptainly, but now she welcomed them. They showed that, assimilated or not, she was still, after a fashion, human.

"You need to come to sickbay," Sam said, almost tentatively.

Kathryn nodded and tried to step down off the transporter pad. She stumbled and would have fallen if Sam had not reacted quickly and caught her.

"Are you OK?" the younger woman asked anxiously, apparently unaware of the incongruity of the question.

Kathryn looked at her dumbly.

"I'm fine," she said eventually. Why was it so difficult to say?

Sam smiled again and took her arm. Kathryn followed meekly as a memory struggled to the surface of her nanoprope-infested brain.

_You would say that if your legs were torn off by a Trayken beast_, a voice said in her mind. Who had spoken those words? Her mind seemed unwilling to provide the name, but she could see the blue-tattoed face and hear the gentle voice so clearly…

"Come this way," Sam was urging.

Kathryn realised she'd been standing motionless and stepped forward. She glanced over at the young woman manning the transporter. Who was she? She paused again and Sam, patiently, waited.

"Lyssa," Kathryn said at last.

Lyssa Campbell looked at her with a smile as wide as Sam's had been.

"Welcome back, Captain," she said.

Kathryn nodded slightly. Captain. She was home.

As the doors swung shut behind her, she heard Lyssa say, "Campbell to Bridge. They're back."


	2. Chapter 2

**2: Commander Chakotay**

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"Commander, we've got them all and Lyssa says they're en route to sickbay," Harry Kim announced.

Commander Chakotay rose slowly from the Big Chair and turned to look at the ensign. Harry's young face was alight with joy. _Always so transparent, so ingenuous_, Chakotay thought. Earlier, Harry had looked as if all the cares of the world were on his shoulders, and so, in a way, they had been. B'Elanna Torres was one of his best friends, and Chakotay knew that the young man's reverence for the Captain was equally comprised of professional deference and an affection that was almost filial in nature.

"Commander?" Harry said again, and Chakotay realised he'd failed to acknowledge the good news. What was he doing, thinking about Harry, when Kathryn was back?

He nodded. "Thanks, Harry." He watched the younger man relax at the perfunctory, but expected, statement. _So much of this job is going through the anticipated moves.. _

Chakotay turned to face the front of the Bridge again, deliberately moving from the Big Chair to his own seat. Kathryn was back. They had their captain again. He tried to forget the paralysing fear that she'd fail, that Doc's neuro-suppressant would fail, that assimilation would be total, or fatal.

One worry down, he thought as he seated himself. How many to go? The away team was physically returned to Voyager, but were they mentally and emotionally present? Chakotay tried not to think of Seven of Nine's long and continuing struggle to regain her humanity. Could Voyager survive if it had to do without her Captain, her Chief Engineer, and her Tactical and Security expert indefinitely? Survival without one of them would be achievable, but he doubted if they'd manage without three of their most essential crewpeople.

Not for the first time since Kathryn Janeway had clasped his hand and walked away from the Bridge to confront the Borg, he wished that he'd refused her the support she'd asked. So many times, they'd disagreed, and she'd gone ahead anyway- and this time, this one time when she'd told him she would act only with his support- he'd told her to go. Go to the Borg, go and be assimilated, just for the sake of the people of Unimatrix Zero. People who, in their waking hours, would not hesitate to assimilate Voyager and her entire crew.

Chakotay shook his head over the whole situation. Three years before, they'd have gone to warp nine in the opposite direction. Now, they were trying to help Borg. Not the Collective, admittedly, but still helping Borg- even if, ultimately, their actions had the power to weaken the Collective as a whole. Such was Seven of Nine's contribution.

When had they started to see Borg drones as victims and not aggressors?

He could understand Kathryn wanting to help. He could understand Tuvok's determination to accompany her. The Vulcan security officer's loyalty to his captain and friend was complete. But B'Elanna? B'Elanna, who had argued and fought with Seven of Nine nearly every day since the latter had joined the crew. B'Elanna, who had told the Captain, 'She's not one of our own' …

What, Chakotay wondered, had motivated B'Elanna to join _this _particular away team?

Thoughts of B'Elanna drew the First Officer's eyes inevitably to her partner, at the conn. Tom, their rebel, their irrepressible, was slumped limply over his console.

Chakotay felt a rush of compassion for him. He and Tom had clashed in the past, enmity and distrust meeting hostility, but those times were gone. Tom had changed, just as Kathryn had always said he would. _The Captain is always right_, he thought with affectionate irony, momentarily forgetting the times when she had been patently and completely wrong.

Chakotay opened his mouth to tell the other man to go to sickbay, to B'Elanna, but was forestalled by the chirp of his communicator.

"Chakotay here."

"Commander, I need Lt. Paris down here now," the Doctor said with his customary curtness.

Chakotay looked at Tom again, saw how painfully difficult it was for the younger man to pull himself together.

"He's on his way," he said, hoping that the words would give Tom the impetus he needed, and wishing with all his heart he could go, too.

"Tell him to be quick," the Doctor said grumpily.

"Lieutenant?" Chakotay prompted when Tom still made no move.

Tom whirled around in his chair and stood in a single movement. _Typical Tom_, Chakotay thought with a tinge of exasperation, _always the show-off_. His exasperation faded as he saw the tinge of red in Tom's eyes, and realised that the relief had, indeed, been overwhelming. That too, was typical of Tom, he knew, covering vulnerability beneath a casual and flippant shell.

"Go. They're waiting for you!"

Tom snapped his heels together and left, his 'yes, sir' still echoing over the bridge as the turbolift doors closed behind him.

Chakotay settled into his own chair once more, restraining the impatience that rose within him. The Doctor would give him news soon. Soon, he'd be able to leave the Bridge to Harry, and go to see how his two best friends had fared. But now all he could do was wait, and take care of Voyager.

Kathryn would want that.


	3. Chapter 3

**3: Lieutenant Tom Paris**

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Tom flung regulations to the winds and quite literally ran from the turbolift to sickbay. _At least Tuvok's not here to see_, he thought wryly as he finally burst in.

The thought hung unpleasantly in his mind as his eyes fell on the scene within. Tuvok was lying prone on the bed while the Doctor worked feverishly over him.

Tom swallowed. "Doctor-," he began.

The Doctor glared at him. "Finally! Get over here and monitor Tuvok. The neuro-suppressant failed with him and I'm administering the antidote, but it needs to be carefully measured. Meantime, your girlfriend is giving my temporary staff a lot of grief!"

The Doctor's glare shifted from Tom to B'Elanna, who, blessedly herself despite the horribly visible Borg paraphernalia, was arguing strenuously as a nervous-looking crewman tried to get her to lie down. Tom tried not to show his relieved grin, and moved towards the irascible holographic doctor.

"Where's the Captain?" he demanded as the Doctor handed over. Further explanations were unnecessary. This scenario had been anticipated, and Tom, as well as a number of other crewmen, had been thoroughly drilled in the required procedures.

"I'm going to her now," the Doctor snapped. "She should have been treated before Torres, but she refused." The Doctor glared at Tom again as if the pilot was responsible for both the Captain's intransigency and B'Elanna's temper.

"Tuvok needed to be seen to first," the Captain rasped, and Tom glanced up, almost as glad to hear her voice as he'd been to see B'Elanna's struggles.

"Well, it's your turn now, Captain," the Doctor said condescendingly, and Tom bit his lips. Under normal circumstances the Doctor would never get away with that tone.

Now, the Captain was clearly too exhausted to protest. She grunted.

"Get on with it!" Tom heard her say.

Next, he heard the slight hiss of a hypo.

"Lie down now," the Doctor ordered.

"How long will this take?" The complete weariness in her voice distracted Tom from Tuvok, causing him to look up.

"Mr Paris!" the Doctor barked. "Pay attention to what you're doing!"

Tom returned the glare with interest and returned to Tuvok. The antidote had been given; all he could do was watch, and Tom didn't do watching well. His entire being cried out to be with B'Elanna, calming her as only he could, or with the Captain, whose faith in him had touched him more deeply than he cared to admit, even to himself.

After a seeming eternity, the Doctor returned to Tuvok, and Tom. He frowned as he looked at the readouts.

"This is going to take some time," he muttered.

Tom swallowed and looked nervously towards B'Elanna.

"For Tuvok?" he asked.

For an infinitesimal period of time, the Doctor's dark eyes softened. "Yes. But only him. He was fully assimilated, you see."

"And B'Elanna?"

"B'Elanna and the Captain should recover comparatively quickly, thanks to a combination of my suppressant and the antidote," the Doctor told him with something resembling his usual arrogance.

"How long?" Tom asked, knowing that the questions were unprofessional, especially in front of patients.

The Doctor evidently agreed, for the frown was back. "Mr Paris, you're a medic. It takes as long as it takes! Now, I'll take over here. Go and do something with that Torres before I'm forced to have her sedated!"

Tom grinned and obeyed, trying to ignore the muttered comments coming behind him. He thought he heard something about a half-Klingon Borg being the Doctor's worst nightmare.

Tom wondered what B'Elanna would do if she overheard those comments, or if some interfering soul decided it would be amusing to tell her. Her response, he knew, would be entertaining for him, but possibly disastrous for the Doctor. In a fit of magnanimity, he determined to keep it to himself. He owed the Doctor something, after all.


	4. Chapter 4

**4: Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres**

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"Lieutenant, please lie down again," the temporary medic implored. Her voice quavered and the hand that held the medical tricorder trembled. Her painfully evident fear only incensed B'Elanna further.

"Go- Away!" she snarled, giving the words a definite bite.

The temporary medic- a crewman normally assigned to deck fifteen and therefore unacquainted with B'Elanna Torres except through the exaggerations of the rumour mill- squeaked and moved away from the irate Chief Engineer.

"It's OK, Kat," Tom Paris said soothingly as he approached. "Go and help the Doctor with the Captain. I'll take over here."

B'Elanna relaxed slightly as the young woman- who had the misfortune to share a name and a spelling with the Captain- vanished.

"Thanks," B'Elanna grunted. She glanced up at him through her lashes, half prepared for Tom's recoil or- worse- rejection as he comprehended the extent of her Borg implants.

Tom, however, did not return her look at first. Fear shot through her. She watched him nod at the assistant and check the tricorder. Then he placed it on the nearest suitable surface and leaned against the biobed, his attention truly focused on her at last. Both of B'Elanna's stomachs felt hard.

"Hey," he said softly.

B'Elanna felt her stomach-both of them- turn to gooey joy. He wasn't repulsed. He still loved her. It was there in his eyes. "Hey, yourself," she returned, longing to say more yet resolving to wait until the vocal subprocessor had been removed. This voice was not her own.

"Good to have you back," Tom said. She could see the moisture in his eyes, and she knew that her own were wet.

"There was a couple of times there I thought it'd never happen," B'Elanna admitted in a near whisper.

Tom's hand brushed her cheek. "I know."

She covered his hand with her own, hating the cold whiteness of it, yet needing the physical contact. "How long-?" she began.

She could almost see the change in him as he moved from Tom Paris, Boyfriend and Lover, to Tom Paris, Trained Medic.

"Doc says that you're lucky," he said with a heartiness that just stopped short of being false. "Your Klingon physiology and redundancies meant that the nanoprobes had to work harder at assimilating you- even without the suppressant- so he reckons that removing your implants will be the easiest of all of you. That, and the fact that you're the youngest and fittest. Well, maybe not fitter than Tuvok."

His voice increased slightly in volume as he ended, and B'Elanna's jaw dropped; she hadn't expected such a frank appraisal with the Captain lying less than a metre away. However, she caught the glint in her lover's eye, and she knew that he'd spoken intentionally. She, too, was worried by the blank look in Captain Janeway's eyes. If her favourite helmsman could rouse her- even by way of a gentle insult- B'Elanna wouldn't complain.

They watched with bated breath as the Captain slowly opened her eyes. The Doctor and the hapless crewperson had moved away for moment, so the three were to all intents and purposes alone.

"Watch it, Mr Paris," Janeway warned, albeit weakly, "or you might lose that shiny new pip again."

B'Elanna and Tom exchanged a smile. They knew she was joking, and they knew that she knew that they knew. Tom disengaged his hand from B'Elanna's and leaned over the rail to look at his Captain.

"You can bust me to crewman if you like," he said sincerely. "I'm just happy to have you back in one piece, Captain."

"Almost in one piece, Mr Paris," Janeway said wryly. They could hear the sense of violation in her tone. Violation deliberately, even willingly incurred, but violation nonetheless. B'Elanna shuddered.

She saw Tom reach out and squeeze the older woman's hand. "We've got all the pieces that matter. Now rest, or Doc will make my life even more of a misery than he does already. That," he continued, turning to grin at B'Elanna, "goes for you, too."

At this point, B'Elanna was not inclined to argue. Exhaustion swept through her as the weight of the experiences of the past days seemed to descend in one fell swoop. Suddenly unconsciousness, of any description, seemed like a very good idea. Maybe, she thought through a distracted haze, she'd have a hair again when she woke up.

"Tom?" she mumbled.

Tom's face swam before her.

"Tell the Doctor I want my hair back," she ordered sleepily. "And tell Chakotay to get his ass down here." With an effort, she managed to glance meaningfully in the Captain's direction.

Tom nodded his understanding, and B'Elanna felt his hand on her head, touching gently. Caressing her bald head. She drifted into unconsciousness on a wave of warm emotion, feeling completely, totally, safe.


	5. Chapter 5

**5: Neelix**

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Neelix muffled a Talaxian swear word as he attempted to root out his favourite pan from the back of one of his cupboards. Once his mother's, the pan was almost his most treasured possession, and he used it only on special occasions. As far as Neelix was concerned, outwitting the Borg Queen (yet again) was unquestionably a special occasion, and he was determined to 'whip up' something suitable.

Beaming with satisfaction, he clunked the pan on top of the bar, and then straightened. His smile faded as he came face to face with a morose First Officer.

"Commander? What is it? Nothing's gone wrong? The Captain-?"

Chakotay waved a hand to stop the torrent of questions. "The Captain, Tuvok, and B'Elanna are doing as well as can be expected. The Doctor and Seven are removing most of the implants as we speak."

Neelix's fuzzy eyebrows went up. "Already?"

"No time like the present." Chakotay shuffled, uncharacteristically uncomfortable in his own body.

Neelix looked at him. Chakotay's eyes were ringed in black, giving them the appearance of dark holes in his skull. Even the tattoo seemed faded with exhaustion. "Commander?" he ventured.

Chakotay looked up.

"Do you want something? To eat? Or just to talk?"

The First Officer tried to smile. "Thanks, Neelix, but I'd like to sit in quiet for a while."

"I'm sure the Doctor would prefer it if you rested," Neelix pointed out. "I understand you'll be in command for some time."

Chakotay shot him a glare worthy of the Captain herself. "I'm sure he would," he returned drily, "but I'm not going anywhere until I know those three are out of surgery and resting comfortably."

_Especially the Captain_, Neelix thought but did not say. The entire ship knew that there was a special bond between Captain and First Officer; something between the friendship Kathryn Janeway shared with Tuvok, and the overt love that bound B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris together. Further definition was impossible; the Command team's relationship defined easy, neat, attempts at categorisation.

"Have you seen her?"

"What is this, twenty questions? Yes. I saw her yesterday afternoon when she'd rested some. Borg or not, she was still the Captain. Wanted a full report. Wouldn't tell me how she was feeling. 'I'm fine.' I told her once she'd say that if she'd had her legs ripped off, but I was joking. At least, I thought I was. Bloody Borg."

The unusual venom in Chakotay's voice made the little Talaxian flinch, and Chakotay glanced up.

"What is it? I'm not gonna apologise."

Neelix's golden eyes flicked warily over Chakotay's left shoulder, preparing the other man for what came next: the precise, clipped tones of Seven of Nine.

"I would not expect you to, Commander."

Chakotay turned slowly so that he leaned his weight on the arm resting on the bar and faced the former drone. He hesitated, and for a moment Neelix thought that he would, after all, apologise. The hesitation lasted for only a moment, however.

"Seven. How'd it go?"

"The Captain and Lieutenant Torres are out of surgery," Seven told them. "The Doctor has decided to wait until tomorrow before finishing with Commander Tuvok."

Chakotay raised a dark brow. "Problem?"

"The neural block was ineffective in Commander Tuvok's case," Seven observed with her usual detachment. "Therefore, it will longer before the Doctor can remove all of his implants. The Captain and Lieutanent Torres, however, are virtually implant free."

Neelix thought Seven's voice sounded a little softer than was her wont

as she uttered the final sentence, but he couldn't be certain. _Not that that's so surprising_, he thought. Everyone knew that Captain Janeway was the nearest thing to a mother that the former Borg had, and Neelix had clear memories of the volatile relationship shared by his own sisters- a relationship he often thought was echoed in the prickly interactions between Seven of Nine and B'Elanna Torres.

Even though Seven would never admit it, Neelix knew that the former drone had been deeply touched by B'Elanna's insistence on accompanying the Captain and Tuvok on this particular away mission, and that her concern for the Chief Engineer went almost as deep as her concern for the Captain, or Tuvok.

Neelix looked at the First Officer, whose stiff posture had relaxed at the good news.

"When will they be ready for visitors?" Chakotay asked. His voice was even, but Neelix had seen the flash of thankful emotion in the other man's eyes as Seven spoke.

Seven raised one eyebrow in a characteristic gesture. "The Captain was awake when I left," she observed. "I believe she would appreciate your company, Commander- although I do not think the Doctor would be impressed."

Chakotay flashed Seven a grin that was almost wolfish. "Tell me something I don't already know!" He pushed himself away from the bar and slapped Neelix's pudgy shoulder in a movement more reminiscent of Tom Paris than the usually self-contained First Officer.

"I'm off to sickbay," he announced.

Neelix directed his best toothy grin at Chakotay and Seven's brow remained fixed.

"Uh, Commander?" Neelix shouted just before the other man reached the door.

Neelix saw Chakotay brace his shoulders and turn. A little too quickly.

"Yes?"

Neelix gave Chakotay a wolfish grin of his own. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Chakotay looked quizzical. "I am?"

Neelix, still grinning, reached under the counter to produce a familiar silver flask. Chakotay's own face split in a matching smirk.

"Wouldn't the Doctor shout?" he asked as he reached to take the coffee flask from the little Talaxian.

Neelix smirked and shrugged. "Doesn't he always? What do you think, Seven?"

Seven blinked. "The Doctor will not be happy, but I believe the Captain will benefit." Her impassive face softened a little. "Bring her the coffee, Commander. It- it will help her regain her humanity."

As if afraid of revealing too much, Seven crossed the room towards the replicator and ordered one of her 'nutritional supplements.' She did not turn again.

Neelix nodded at Chakotay. "You'd better go, Commander," he suggested. "I'm sure the Captain will be glad to see you- and the coffee!"

Taking the hint, Chakotay smiled and left.

Neelix stood and watched the former Borg for a long time.

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_As you might guess, Seven is next up, but my inspiration went rather dry at this point. Hopefully it will restart: I hate leaving stories unfinished... any brainwaves please stick 'em in either reviews or email me at _

_Thanks for reading so far, and bear with me as I finish this._


	6. Chapter 6

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**Seven of Nine**

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Seven of Nine found that she was-grateful- for Neelix's sensitivity in remaining silent even after the mess hall doors had swished closed behind the First Officer. That was the unsettling thing about Neelix, Seven knew- he could be almost offensively ebullient, but at other times, when it was most needful, the hairy little Talaxian could be the best companion on the ship.

Seven admitted, to herself, at least, that for her this was one of those times. The events of the last days had shaken her deeply- not only the generosity of her crewmates in voluntarily presenting themselves for assimilation, although that was shocking enough, but….

The recollection of her life as Annika Hansen in Unimatrix Zero had left her reeling. Once, shortly after her arrival on Voyager, but before she was severed from the Collective, she'd told Chakotay that humanity and individuality were small things- inefficient, lacking the cohesion of the collective mind.

In the years that followed, she'd learned, slowly and often painfully, that individuality was a thing to be valued- and yet a part of her had maintained a self-consciously superior attitude to her fellow individuals. Almost as if, she thought now, she was trying to have 'the best of both worlds'- individuality with Borg efficiency.

She'd taken great pride in her perfection and efficiency- and yet, as a member of Unimatrix Zero, she hadn't even been truly that. Ever since her liberation from the Collective, she'd always been in a form of limbo, neither completely human nor completely Borg, and that was compounded by the regained memories of her time in Unimatrix Zero….and Axum. The man she'd loved.

Until now, love had been simply another human foible to Seven of Nine. Once, in unknowing innocence, she'd told Harry Kim that love was a disease. True, she'd later amended her statement by adding that love could as easily be a source of strength as of weakness, but that understanding had been intellectual rather than emotional.

Seeing Axum again and remembering what they'd shared had shaken her deeply. Then she'd had to face the fact that, in all likelihood, she'd never see him again. Axum was on a cube thousands of light years away. She was on _Voyager_, travelling ever nearer to the Alpha Quadrant- and even though they might achieve their aim and reach Earth and Federation space sooner rather than later, even though the Beta Quadrant was comparatively more accessible from Earth- Seven knew that the chance of seeing him remained slim. Axum's cube was as unlikely to remain stationary as _Voyager_ herself was, and the Borg could travel at far greater speed….

"Seven?" Neelix's gentle voice roused her from her reverie.

"Yes?" She noticed, for the first time, how detached her voice was. How Borg she still remained. She shuddered in sudden revulsion.

"Are you alright?" Neelix pressed. He sounded- concerned- Seven thought. She did not want him to be concerned. She did not deserve his concern…

"I am- well," she told him, trying her best to make her voice warmer, less level, less Borg.

"I made you one of your nutritional supplements," the little Talaxian ventured. "You've been working so hard in sickbay with the Doctor that you need to keep your strength up."

Seven forced the still unfamiliar smile onto her lips and accepted the drink. She knew Neelix's action had been unnecessary. She'd just finished drinking her own replicated version. She did not need Neelix's, no doubt supplemented with his own additions.

She drained the glass and returned it with another of those careful smiles. "Thank you. You are very kind." She sounded stiff. Why did she always have to sound so stiff? _I will try harder_, she resolved. _I will try to be more human…_

Neelix looked as if he might say more, but instead glanced at her with those disconcertingly kind yet knowing gold eyes. He patted her shoulder and slipped away.

Seven returned to the viewport, but her gaze was unseeing. She was considering so many things. The actions of the Captain, B'Elanna, and Tuvok. The quiet support that had emanated from the rest of the crew. Chakotay's determination to see the mission through. The Doctor's unceasing research on the process of assimilation- and the efforts required to reverse it.

_A random act of kindness puts us in touch with our own humanity. _The phrase flashed through Seven's mind. Captain Janeway had said that to her, nearly three years ago…. And now, Seven had enough experience behind her to comprehend the truth of that statement. She'd even tested it for herself. Yet the behaviour of Voyager's Captain and crew with regard to the drones of Unimatrix Zero was more than simple kindness, and certainly it had not been random…. Sacrifice knowingly and deliberately made is never random.

A tingling sensation in her left hand caused her to look down, and she realised she'd been rubbing her right thumb over the implants that still traced the bones of her left hand. Seven froze, and slowly looked at those hands- at the perfect right one, and the marred, Borg left appendage….

Almost involuntarily, her right hand lifted to her face and traced the implant that curved around her brow. The outward, tangible evidence that she was not completely human and would never be completely human. Seven was suddenly fiercely grateful that the three patients lying in sickbay would not be left with those permanent reminders. She did not think she could endure that- to see implants protruding from Tuvok's nearly smooth head, to hear B'Elanna's fierce yet mellow tones rendered dull and impersonal by a sub-vocal processor, to see the Captain's usually mobile features made stiff and grey and unyielding….

The Captain. In an unconscious gesture, Seven bit her lip.

She remembered bending over Kathryn Janeway -her Captain, her liberator, her mentor- just after the first operation to remove the implants had taken place.

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The Doctor had decided to begin the process by focusing on the larger areas- notably, the body armour that covered nearly every inch of the Captain's figure. Janeway's face had been grey from the nanoprobes that continued to course through her blood; as she lay there, still unconscious, Seven found herself thinking that she looked dead, and she was startled at the depth of her emotional response.

_You will not die, Kathryn Janeway_, she had thought. _You will recover from this. You will take command of your ship again, and you will be wholly human…_

Almost as if she could hear, Janeway's lids had fluttered open. Her eyes had seemed bluer somehow, two intense spots of colour in her otherwise pallid face.

Seven had wondered if her own eyes had contrasted in like manner with her Borg skin, but she'd pushed the thought out of her mind.

"Remain still, Captain," she had ordered, knowing that Kathryn Janeway would, as always, attempt to push herself. "We have left your spinal implants in place for the moment."

Seven had seen something very like fear flash through the other woman's eyes. The sight startled her, and shook her more than she wanted to admit. She'd never realised- until now, when it was Janeway who lay helpless- how much she'd come to rely on the older woman. True, she'd argued and rebelled and struggled against many of the Captain's precepts and dictates- but ultimately, that conflict had given Seven something to push against, something to ground herself on as she explored her own individuality.

The Captain moved her head very carefully. "Tuvok?" she'd whispered. "B'Elanna?"

"They are doing well," Seven had consoled. "They are both asleep. I suggest you follow their example, Captain."

The Captain's eyes dropped shut. Then, just as Seven was about to move away, they opened again. "Annika?"

Seven froze. She'd nearly left. Yet something held her in place- the memory of Axum's voice caressing her name, perhaps, or the Captain's observation that the Annika of Unimatrix Zero had seemed happy and comfortable in her humanity…..

For the first time in her waking life since her assimilation at the age of six, Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix Zero One, responded to the name her parents had given her.

"Yes, Captain?"

The Captain's lips had turned up in the familiar quirk. "It worked?" She'd sounded drowsy, barely coherent.

Seven's eyes filled with rare tears. "Yes, it worked. They are free. Rest, now."

She'd watched as the Captain slid easily into sleep.

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The chirp of her comm-badge roused Seven from her memories and her reverie.

Automatically, she hit it. Harry's voice, weary but triumphant, sounded.

"A transmission is coming through for you," he announced.

Seven glanced about her, and realised she was still in the mess hall, but not alone. She could hear Neelix pottering tactfully in the background, and experienced a resurge of her gratitude towards him.

"I will take the communication in Astrometrics," she informed Harry.

"No problem, Seven. Kim out."

Seven closed the channel and then crossed to stand at the galley bar.

Neelix looked up.

"I must go," Seven said. "Ensign Kim is routing a communication through to Astrometrics for me." She hesitated. "I hope- I believe- it is from one of the freed cubes. I must take it."

Neelix bobbed his head in understanding. "Of course you must, Seven. Go, go on. I hope you're right."

Seven managed a smile and headed for the doors.

Just before she went through them, she heard Neelix call her. She turned.

The Talaxian grinned at her. "You let me know right away if it's from those freed drones. I want to start planning."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "Planning?"

Neelix nodded enthusiastically. "A party. Just as soon as the Captain and the others are recovered. We'll have a grand party. This deserves a celebration!"

He sounded almost fierce as he ended, and Seven permitted her expression to relax.

"Perhaps you are correct, Mr. Neelix. A- a celebration would be a good idea." She paused, then, "It would be an affirmation."

She straightened and strode out of the mess hall with her usual briskness.

* * *

_I'm not sure I'm totally satisfied with this section; I don't think the flashback is very well handled, and I'm not sure about the tenses. What do you think? Please review!_

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	7. Chapter 7

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**7: Ensign Harry Kim**

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Harry Kim slid lower into the Big Chair some hours after his conversation with Seven of Nine. It had been a long night, and the ensign was struggling to keep his eyes open; like Tom and Chakotay, the Ops officer had been awake for more than two straight shifts. Now, despite the pressure and the fear that the Borg would still come after them while he was in command, the young man was becoming increasingly desperate for his bed. 

"Sir?"

Harry's head snapped up. Embarrassed, he met the understanding blue eyes of the blonde girl who took Tom's place at the helm during the gamma shift. Since his first awkward experience of command, they'd become good friends. Among other things, they'd discovered a shared love of music, and the fact that they'd unknowingly shared a number of classes at the Academy. Sometimes Harry reflected that it was unfair that he should be a senior officer and Department Head, when good people like McKenzie Jenkins were forever kept on the graveyard shift.

Then again, it was also unfair that Harry himself was still an ensign after nearly seven years of exemplary service. Harry tried not to care; tried to remind himself of their unique situation, tried to refrain from criticising the Captain- whom he still revered, despite discovering that like most mere mortals, she had feet of murky clay.

But it was futile. Every time he reminded himself of these facts, he remembered too that Tuvok had been promoted from Lieutenant to Lieutenant Commander; Tom had been given a field promotion to Lieutenant- despite his chequered past- demoted to Ensign and then restored to Lieutenant again, while Harry remained the eternal ensign….

"Harry!" hissed Ensign Jenkins.

Startled, Harry jerked up again, and, flustered, managed a very passable imitation of the Death Glare. McKenzie's mouth twitched.

"Yes, Ensign?" Harry said as pompously as he could, knowing his eyes were heavy, his uniform sweat stained and his hair unkempt.

The young woman nodded in apparent satisfaction. "We're approaching a nebula, sir," she announced properly.

Harry stared at her blankly. A nebula. He knew what to do with a nebula, didn't he? Of course he did. He was, like his Captain, at heart a science officer.

So why couldn't he think?

"Will I take some readings?" Tal Celes asked very hesitantly from where she stood at Ops. Harry's gamma shift relief had staggered to bed an hour before, and the young Bajoran- who was, after all, a sensor analyst- had found herself on the Bridge.

Harry looked at her stupidly. Readings? Of course she should take readings! What kind of readings? She was looking at him with that wistful earnestness that twisted his heart every time he saw her sweet face, and he knew- he just knew- that she was more terrified even than he was….

And still he could not think what to say.

Tom's arrival came as a blessed and opportune relief.

Harry looked at him in surprise. Tom was the last person he expected to see- but there he stood, evidently as weary as Harry himself, but his pale face irradiated by relief and joy. Harry registered the relief and the joy, but at the end of this eternal day he could not remember why it was important. Instead, he stared at his best friend.

"I've come from sickbay," Tom announced.

Even in his present exhausted state, Harry felt rather than saw how the other members of the Bridge crew stiffened to attention, and he felt the same reaction in himself.

"How're they doing?" he heard Ensign Jenkins ask through the haze that clouded his senses and emotions. The nearly dead rational part of himself knew that this level of exhaustion was dangerous, for both himself and the ship, but he was determined to remain at his post until relieved.

"-fine," he heard Tom say. "Doc says the Captain and B'Elanna just need some time to recover now. Tuvok might take longer, but we're sure he'll get there too."

Harry saw Ensign Jenkins beam; out of the corner of his eye he saw Tal Celes almost crumple with relief. Harry's own hero-worship for his Captain had been tempered by realism and tarnished by time- but for Celes, who had first experienced the full force and charm of Kathryn Janeway's magnetic personality only a couple of months ago, that hero-worship was bright and very much alive.

And himself? Harry's eyes blurred with sudden tears as the burden of fear and anxiety he'd carried for-days, it seemed now- fell from him, leaving him suddenly energised. He raised his head and met Tom's blue eyes for the first time since the latter had come onto the Bridge.

Tom grinned, the smile emphasising the faint lines that worry had traced around his eyes during this past week.

"Chakotay says to tell you you're off duty as of now," he said. "He'll be down shortly; I'm to take the Bridge until he gets here."

Harry rose. "What about you?" he questioned doubtfully.

Tom shook his head and moved towards the now empty command chair. "I've been working in sickbay," he reminded his friend. "Doc insists on regular work breaks- especially during long and complicated surgery."

Harry nodded in understanding and moved towards the lift. The sound of his name made him pause and turn.

Tom was looking straight at him. "If you're not too tired, why don't you go down to sickbay first? I'm sure they'd love to see-"

Harry heard no more. He decided to take Tom's advice and go and see for himself that his friends were whole once again.

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_This section was shorter than I'd initially planned, but somehow this seemed the right place to finish this section. Doctor coming up next! Please R & R!_


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